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Honey

11 And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people.
12 And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities. (Alma 7:11-12)


My body recognizes the native grasses. Each time I gaze at the vibrant, glowing foothills, I feel this peace fill my soul. This is home, and my eyes and ears and heart know it.

And my sinuses . . . they know it too. When I was growing up I was never afflicted with hay fever, nor was I when I lived in Michigan and Connecticut, but when I moved back here my immune system kicked into full gear. Each breath reminds me that these allergens are familiar, and I spend my days sneezing.

The grass isn't the only thing that I recognized when I moved back here. The air is filled with memories, almost buzzing with them at times. When I make left turns at certain intersections, I am transported back in time to when I was first learning to drive. As I walk on certain sidewalks, conversations come back to me. Certain smells in the church take me back to Young Women's activities.

There are times when I wonder, would I want to go back to that time? I remember days as a teenager when it felt like the end of the world, and I desperately wished I could redo that day. Now, though, if I were to go back in time, I don't think I would go back and fix all my mistakes. Instead, I would go back as my current self and provide reassurance to my younger self.

"This is a sad thing that happened, and I'm sorry."
"You don't know what good things are in store for you."
"Keep going!"
"I love you!"

I wouldn't go back and take away all the hurts, even if they still trigger a mild reaction every now and then. I wouldn't take away all of my mistakes even if remembering them still makes me want to dig a hole and hide in it. If I had to go back I wouldn't take erasers and shovels. I would take blankets and hairbrushes, hugs and assurances.

And then, I would just sit with my former self, providing the comfort that comes from being there.

***

When the Savior suffered in Gethsemane, He took upon Himself all of our pains and sicknesses. But He didn't necessarily take them away from us. There are many stories of people being freed from the effects of trauma, but their deliverance didn't come right away. There were years of pain first.

During those years of pain, the Savior was not off in a backroom concocting an elixir that would eventually heal them. He wasn't out in the world fixing up the bits and pieces of life that had been damaged by the trauma. He was sitting there, feeling the heartache right along side them. And I believe He was speaking words of comfort all along.

We don't know all that happened while Christ was in Gethsemane. But we do know that He prayed for us. "Father, I will that they also, whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am; that they may behold my glory" (John 17:24). Where is He? He has been in cars on the way to a disappointing doctor's appointment. He has been on the way home after a layoff. He has been in the kitchen where the kids are fighting. He has been in the most desperate hospital lobby, comforting harried nurses and choking patients. He is wherever He needs to be to sit with us. And He wants us to sit with Him too.

***

One of the first times I walked through the fields from my parents' home to our future home, I saw several wooden boxes surrounded by bees. I later learned that honey was produced here, and my parents often received some as Christmas gifts that they in turn gave to me.

Some studies suggest that native honey is good for allergies because it contains some of the pollen that cause allergies. From my own experience I can say that antihistamines seem to suppress the sneezing and itching better than honey, but I still am happy to eat the honey. It is lovely to think that something that causes me a little discomfort can in a slightly different form also fill me with sweetness and joy.

As President Nelson taught, there is "no amorphous entity called 'the Atonement'" which on its own fills us with sweetness and joy, with succor and healing. Jesus Christ is the source. It is He Himself who can turn grass into honey, can turn painful trials into sweet encounters with His love. It is He who has always sat with us, providing words of comfort that we can't hear, perhaps can't feel, but that will still nourish us through times of drought.

And when we finally do realize that the Savior is with us, we will, alongside the Psalmist, proclaim,  "How sweet are thy words unto my taste! yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth!"

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